Cemented Vows
by RuthlessXenomorph
Summary: After the bloody battle that starts the war between the Frost Giants and Asgard, Thor, and his brother Loki-for his blatant part in the scheme-are both banished to Earth until Thor is worthy, and Loki has withdrawn his animosity towards his brother. They later discover family ties aren't the only thing keeping them close. Total Thunderfrost story. Rated M for a reason.


**Ahh, my first Marvel story. And, of course, it HAD to have Loki. Now this is a "Thunderfrost" story, with delicious parts later on. So, if that isn't appealing, hit the back arrow. Otherwise, enjoy! :D**

 ****This isn't just a reading-through-the-movie kind of story, even though the beginning sure feels that way****

Chapter One

As the thin souls of my boots tap on the ash gray marble floor of the towering palace halls, something heavily weighs on my mind. Or, more specifically, what recently took place. Today was to be the day my brother, Thor, was to be named King of Asgard. Not to say it wasn't flirting with danger, but the incident of the break in leaves me feeling somewhat anxious. Thor has since been thrashing about tables in a fit of anger, being scolded, talked down to, when urging acts of war against the Frost Giants. I shake my head to his antiphon, knowing wholeheartedly that mindset is no appropriate match for the title King. With his impulsiveness swirling in that pot of stew within his head, it brews to a boil with added aggravation. Now is the perfect time to act if I am to successfully ruin not only his reputation to the people, but to Odin himself. With his actions proving him to be unfit for ruling the land, the obvious choice falls to me, Loki, the second born.

I step down the steps leading to an intersection connected to the Great Dining Hall. Neglecting to lift my eyes to the nearby guards, standing stiffly next to the monumental golden statues of warriors—perhaps in attempts to become just as solid—I swiftly make my way to the next hall and to the desired entrance. One of the two vault-like doors stands slightly ajar, leaking the fury raging within. Battle cries flush through the crack with tumbling furniture. I sidestep, barely missing a golden plater spiraling towards the wall like a shuriken star. The fruit it once carried rolls fluently past my feet before slowly coming to a halt. Cautiously placing a hand on the heavy door, I slip through the slim entrance, only to see the room in complete shambles. Just how effected could he possibly be by the King postponing the inevitable?

That inevitability present only in his eyes.

I hide behind a pillar as Thor turns over the dining table. As it seems he's burned off most of his acrimony, I timidly move to his side, eventually sitting next to the diminished warrior. He holds on to his anger, clenching the fist resting upon his knee. Thor always blew his top whenever things didn't go his way, and since he was greatly looking forward to the ceremony, this wound bit deep enough to sever a nerve. However, with my silver tongue, I quickly lift his spirits high enough to act on his goals and cross the Bifrost Bridge to reach Jotunheim with the hopes of defeating those heathens in a glorious battle. My words entrance the ears of his friends, though they shake off the notion at first. But as Thor becomes persistent, they all agree to join in our endeavor.

As expected, when graciously asked to leave, we end up indulging in combat than leaving for Asgard. A couple of members of the Warriors Three get injured and we pull back, but Thor continues, hell-bent on destroying the Frost Giant's civilization. Approaching a cliff, their Frost Beast is blasted through the head by Thor while an army of Frost Giants accumulates behind us. We're lucky enough to have Odin save us damsels, however Thor just refuses to secede his movement.

We return to the Bifrost. The Warriors Three and Sif head immediately to the infirmary while I awkwardly stand in between King and Warrior bellow back and forth. I am not excluded from scolding as I clearly manipulated my brother's might to ensure our journey was successful. And it was, in a way, as our mere trespass violated the treaty that is now broken. Thor spits out insults after being called a boy and is stripped of his armor, his pride, and his power. I am no better for King, for I instigated war, and so I too am stripped of my armor. He failed to restrict me of my power, so I presume it's for encouraging our retreat. Both of us, Odin's sons, are put to shame in reflection of our taint to the kingdom. And, wherefore, we both are banished to the world of mortals, the world in which wriggles with chaos and war more often than any other.

Earth.

We flop on a desert floor in our bleak attire after a cataclysmic somersault through the Bifrost. A rush of air fills my lungs, followed by a series of coughs before rising to my feet. The sky is absent of all color, the air frigid with an equally algid breeze. I give a disingenuous smile, brushing the pale dust from my clothes.

"That went well."

"Do not speak. You are the cause of all this."

"Me? Who was the one unwilling to surrender?"

"Yes, well it wouldn't have happened if your conniving ways were naught." He picks himself off the floor and gawks up at the stars.

"Oh don't pester me with such inconsequential banter."

"Remember how you speak to me, Brother."

"You are no longer Odinson, _Mighty Thor_ , nor am I. We are in the human realm, and so you have no preeminence over me. I may speak in any tongue I so desire."

He huffs before turning his back to me, ramming into something as he does. I flinch, but stay in place. The obstacle then stops and mortals rush out and to his aid. Thor groans, so their attention returns to the crest left by the Bifrost. I stand in the outer circle, remaining silent even as they speak to me. Such primitive beings shan't deserve a drop of the winsome nectar that is my voice. I instead analyze the one female scribbling in a small book. She has since tired of coaxing me to speak and jots down chicken scratch. The other two urge Thor to wake and give me odd sideways glances while doing so.

Ordinarily Thor would be in no such condition, so this groggy performance is much to laugh at. I chuckle to myself as he makes low-toned grunts at the writhing pain. The mortals stuff him in their portable machine, advising the female to follow. I eventually shadow them and sit at Thor's side. The door next to me is slammed shut, then we speed away. His body rocks with the rutted terrain and will slide into my legs at some points, so I use my foot to shove him opposite to me, keeping the appendage there to prevent the action once more.

"So is he your friend or something," the younger female inquires, persistently annoying me.

I decide to appease her, if it means silence the rest of the way through, "Brother, actually."

"Wow, I would never have guessed. You guys look nothing alike."

I turn away from her, thoroughly bored of her mental aridity, watching the dirt trail race away through the back window of the machine. I never dreamt things would escalate to this extent. My plan was to humiliate Thor, not banish him, let alone myself. In exile, living with the shame we've put upon the kingdom, it's almost too much to bear. And to be stuck with _him_ , of all the degenerate simpletons, I suppose that is the extent of my luck, if such a thing were to exist. But to banish both sons, Odin must be deep in flooding rage. With no heir, who will take the throne? That was the whole point of what today was supposed to be: the security of the cathedra. And now, even with all of his strength, he is indeed frail. A war is palpable, and yet here lies one of our greatest warriors, resting unconscious on a metal floor, being transported to an unknown destination by mere mortals, pummeled by a mortal's possession…

We really have no lower to go.

The morning dawns. Those mortals have gone about their business, and I have nowhere but here, a cramped, blindingly bright room with a miniscule slate of fabric that I can only assume is purposed as a bed. The warrior whose significance has shattered lies strapped into a similar room next door. A couple of delinquents have hoped to scrutinize me for injuries, however I sway them to other "more important" duties with my magical prowess. It isn't too much longer when I hear the muffled rantings of a deranged man, after which I take my leave. No one dares to stand in my way.

I look around at the slum of a town. Everywhere my eyes land, there is small everything. Small homes, stores, streets, transportation, and people. The mortals are oh so small, like ants, easily squashed and swept from the pavement, forgotten, with the only relevance being that of their collapsed corpses in need of complete decomposition.

In the next moment, someone brushes against my shoulder. My attention darts to the blonde man at my side. "We must stick together if we are to return to Asgard."

I face away from him, "What makes you so certain that is even an option for us? Do you know the meaning of the word "banish"?"

"Do not be smart with me. We will find a way. But first, let's look for Mjölnir."

"And that would be here because…?"

"It is, I can feel it."

"Ah, well, why don't we scavenge about this wasteland while we're at it?"

He starts walking, but is soon trampled by a familiar vehicle. Those same mortals rush out and apologize, taking us to their hovel. It renders odd that they'd retain such blind trust for two strangers, but they do, and that is why they are just simple mortals. When we arrive, it's advised we sanitize ourselves—by Thor. I suppose rolling around in the desert and changing into disgusting rags in the infirmary promotes cleanliness, so I lightly agree. The mortals have little argument when the youngest of the three blurts inappropriate statements, so Thor didn't have to shut down their mild protest himself.

We begin undressing on the far side of the room where visibility for the others is next to none. Thor removes his shirt without shame, flaunting his firm, robust muscles with every move. It isn't a wonder why women flock to him. What I don't understand is how they brush aside the repulsiveness of his demeanor.

I sit shirtless in a lounge chair while Thor showers first, the door standing wide open. He is so arrogant, acting in such ways to those of minor purpose. The thought is rather aggravating, and I find it difficult to discover a distraction as the cheaply woven cushion of this chair is more so irritating than anything in comparison.

I cross one of my legs across the other, fiddling with a strand of my hair. Just as my thoughts drown into silence, I pick up on low voices. It's the mortals, no less scheming to rob us of our worth as Gods. Little do they know the seemingly equal levels we stand on is our new reality. And this truth is the most painful of all, that I am being catered to by these irrelevant beings. Me, Loki, former Odinson and brother of Thor is no more than a helpless dog for those lesser than me to pamper.

Turning my glare away from the incoherent whispers, I glance in the restroom to see if Thor will ever be out. The room is filled with pillows of steam wafting to the floor, cloaking all inside. As I begin to think of a list of complaints under the subject of Thor, the handle squeaks and the water seizes. That's my que to stand and shower as fast as my body will permit.

Thor waltzes out of the glass case, skin wet, shining as silk, droplets running from the ends of his hair, and steam lingering high enough to just barely sheath his hip area. He grabs for a towel and wraps it around his waist, leaving and reaching for the clothes that one female, Jane, laid out a while ago. He nods at me as he exits the room, so I stand and enter the glass case after undressing with the door closed. My stomach churns slightly at the sickening thought of Thor's naked body standing in the very place I am now. Still, that alone shan't deter me from a good scrubbing.

Thor now demands food, because walking around shirtless is just so labor-friendly. We stop at an uncouth diner not far from the miniature science facility. The mortals join us, oddly enough. I wonder if researching climatic phenomena requires the observation of consuming energy through eating. I overheard the lecture Jane was giving the younger female, Darcy, while I was redressing into more form-fitting rags. I sit next to Thor as he wolfs down whole platefuls. I could eat more as well, however this distasteful slop makes my eyes watery with disgust. I only manage to choke down half a stack of pancakes and a sip of coffee before the displeasure becomes too nauseating.

"So, where are you from?" Jane is eager for mindless conversation.

Thor's mouth is full, so he indicates that I answer. "Not from around here."

"That's obvious," Darcy says.

Jane continues, "Were you in that storm?"

I assume now that the pleasantries are out of the way, she digs for what she's really after. I suppose I can't complain, having nowhere else to turn and she offers us a shower and clothes, then proceeds with providing us with sustenance—horridly revolting sustenance, but the notion stands. I decide to be slightly less difficult.

"Storm?"

No one ever said being outright was easy.

"Yeah, with the marks on the ground. What were those?"

Thor stands up with a final gulp of his food, "Come Loki, we're finished here. Thank you, patrons, but we must be off."

I shrug my shoulders in compliance and follow him to the door. I hear Jane rebuttal as the door closes, but I shake it off. Thor seems to not have heard it.

"Where do we start?"

"Let us go back to where we arrived. Perhaps it's there too."

I sigh slightly, walking at his side in the middle of the road, "Do you know where that is?"

"I do not need to."

"Well even if we _do_ manage to find our way back, who's to say it's even there? Perhaps Father keeps it still."

"Why do you always do this?" He stops walking and faces me.

"Do what?" I mimic his movements.

"Argue and point out every negative outcome. It feels as though you do not wish to go home."

I pause for a moment before continuing on our path, "Perhaps I neglect to fool myself into believing a fallacy."

"So you think returning is a lie then?"

"More or less, yes, I do."

"Then it is time I prove you wrong and alter that mindset."

"You can try."

"I will prevail. Just as I do with everything else."

 **And that concludes chapter one! Let me know what you think, and my mind is always open to new ideas if anyone has any. Thank you for reading :3**


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